


suddenly, a smile (shyly obscene)

by freidacay



Series: Link [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Female Reader, Interspecies Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Sex Club, UH UH THERE'S PROBABLY MORE BUT IDK HOW TO TAG??, Vaginal Fingering, im sorry mom, ive never actually been to a sex club before haha, shy reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freidacay/pseuds/freidacay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For just a moment, you consider turning around and leaving. You're completely out of your element. You feel ridiculous in your outfit.</p><p>Then, you think—<i>take a chance.</i> You square your shoulders and move forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	suddenly, a smile (shyly obscene)

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from E. E. Cummings' poem [XVII](http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/60348-xvii-lady-i-will-touch-you-with-my-mind-touch).
> 
> I am sweaty trash for Big/Bara!Sans and I had that design in mind when I wrote this, but hopefully I wrote this to where you can imagine your favorite. Also, this was self-beta'd, so please tell me about any mistakes I left behind.
> 
> I've never written smut before so please?? Tell me if I did the thing???
> 
> *lays down and vibrates in fear* ENJOY?

You hate being a server. You hate taking orders from impudent customers that always want to tweak the menu to suit their unreasonable preferences. You hate that you have such a full section and that your coworkers are skimming out on you. Not for the first time, you remind yourself to try again for some on-campus jobs at your University. 

A generous tip and an apologetic note—left by the raucous group of monsters who had filed in and proceeded to order half the menu, and then seconds, and then desert—brightens your day, as well as the fact that they seem to have clumsily stacked all of their dishes to your benefit. It'll take trips to clear the table, especially since your coworkers are suspiciously (un)occupied, but it still brings a smile to your face.

There had been short bursts of hysteria after the monsters' exodus into the human world, and from ignorance, prejudice had quickly sprung forth. Every interaction you've had with them has proven the racists wrong. Sometimes, you feel like they're better than most humans.

You're on your way back to the kitchens when one of the monsters from earlier sidles up to you and hands you a card. You had noticed them earlier, and the way they gave you appraising looks, unashamed about their interest. They're definitely attractive in their own right, tall and slender and yellow-skinned, with glossy dark eyes, decorated horns, a long tail, and a crooked smile. 

"You look stressed. Come visit us sometime. It's always the high-strung ones who let go the easiest."

You can tell right away what the card is for, and you flush down to your collarbones. The monster releases a warm, amused laugh that ignites a warmth low in your belly, and sways close to drop a kiss onto your cheek before leaving.

Arienne, a fellow server, laughs as you scuffle back into the kitchens, leveling you with a mildly amused eye. Usually, you love her wry humor, but you know the twist to her lips spells trouble for you.

"Who the hell was that?" She says.

"Um, they gave me, Oh, God," You stammer.

She reaches out, plucks the card from your fingers, and quickly reads its contents. Then she looks up at you and says, deadly serious, "You should go."

" _What?_ " You squeal.

"If you don't, I will." She warns you. "You need to unwind. School's got you wigging out all the time. You need to get lai—"

"Ari!" You exclaim. She snickers and gives you the card back.

"Never took you for a racist, girlie." 

"Yeah, and I'm not a fetishist, either." You hiss, pressing the back of your hands onto your flaming cheeks.

You'll never say it aloud, but you're privately flattered by the interest. It had felt— _nice,_ to be the focus of someone's attention. To be desired. Self confidence came in different forms and at different times, and while you were generally confident in yourself, you had never really stood out. 

"Just think about it. If you decide to go... Buy yourself some sexy underwear. A pretty dress. Do your hair. There's nothing wrong with liking sex. Just be safe and have fun." Arienne advises, surprisingly serious. You simply nod, unsure of how to respond.

You glance down at the card. Its backdrop is the former monster kingdom's emblem, and beneath its street address, there was other general information. It seems so unassuming. 

You know what it really is, however. These types of clubs had become famous after humans and monsters realized it was possible for them to be together—in more ways than the most obvious. You had read several interesting articles on the subject, and it still seemed like a faraway concept to you. You are no virgin, but you're still inexperienced enough that it doesn't make any real difference. You can't see yourself frequenting this sort of venue.

_The Link Club_

_Bridging the gap between Humans and Monsters since the Exodus_

_4368 Burning Tree Drive_

_Open All Week_

_1-3XX-42XX_

* * *

You carry the card around in your pocket for an entire month before you cave. Honestly, you think you caved a long time ago. You've been saving tips and a small percentage of your check ever since the card was offered to you.

"I'm gonna do it," You tell Arienne, after closing up late one night. She gives you a high five.

You had come close to entering a local ladies' fashion store several times during the month, and when you finally step foot inside on Saturday, it hits you that you're really going to do this. You stand by the door, lost in thought. A sales clerk approaches you with a friendly smile.

"Need help?" She asks.

"Um," you reply. "It's my—anniversary today, yeah. I want to, uh, surprise my boyfriend."

Her eyes are alight with the excitement that only people who genuinely love fashion seem to have. You tell her you're fine with anything sexy but reasonably priced. You're joking when you say it because you doubt there can be both, but in the end, she assures you she found just that. When you try on the lacy underwear and tight dress, you wince at the price tags. You'd hate to see the expensive clothes in this store. Hello, ramen noodles.

Despite the fact that you can hear your wallet sobbing, you like the way you look in the dress, a simple black number that hugs your curves. The neckline is low enough to tease, but there is room for imagination. You sigh at your reflection. Sometimes it's easy to forget the joy found in simple things like clothes.

When she rings you up, the clerk laughs openly at your expression. Then she kindly swipes a few discount coupons across the register, as well. 

"Because you're a new customer," she explains. "I hope you have a great anniversary! Come back and see us sometime."

"I will! Thanks so much!" You call over your shoulder as you leave with your purchase in hand.

You let a hysterical giggle. You haven't taken a risk this large since you chose your major.

* * *

 The Link Club is completely inconspicuous. You wonder how many people have walked inside, mistakenly believing it to be an ordinary bar. You've never been to this side of town, however. For all you know, it's entirely normal around these parts.

You walk in and nervously present your identification to the bouncer standing in front of the double doors that lead to the inside. The bouncer, a large wolf monster with glittering shorts on, eyes you silently. He shifts to bar you entry when you take a step towards the door he's guarding. You waffle for a moment, and then, in a fit of inspiration, you whip the card you were given out of your bra and present it to him. The wolf's demeanor softens immediately. He nods and ushers you inside with a warm paw on your back.

"Jimmy Hotpants hopes you enjoy your first experience here." He rumbles.

You let out an incredulous laugh. You don't know what possessed you to bring the card with you, but you're glad you did.

The double doors close behind you, and you're enveloped by the low lights and soft music that permeates the air. You glimpse curious eyes and unique bodies, shadows moving sinuously behind curtains drawn around raised platforms.

For just a moment, you consider turning around and leaving. You're completely out of your element. You feel ridiculous in your outfit.

Then, you think— _take a chance._ You square your shoulders and move forward.

You make your way further in, your eyes roving over the club's maze like structure, with its winding hallways and wildly patterned carpets. Monsters and humans alike send you appreciative glances. They are all scantily clad, standing close in the corners of the halls, lounging on end tables and counter tops. Every now and then, you pass a room with the door closed, occasionally stopping to blush at the sounds you hear coming from behind them. You hurry past the raised platforms without looking at them, though you desperately want to.

You pass a room with an open door, and almost walk past it. You pause and take a few steps backwards, curious. You can't help a gasp at the sight before you:

A man with his hands bound behind him is pressed face-first into the mattress of a bed, with his bottom prostrated in the air. The dog-like monster behind him slides a claw underneath him to grasp his arousal. At the involuntary sound you let out, they both turn to glance at you. The man moans around the gag in his mouth. The monster winks at you, and you startle.

"They like to be watched." A familiar voice says. A warm, long-fingered hand pulls you aside, chuckling lowly.

You look up to see the monster from the restaurant grinning down at you. They pull their bright, disheveled red hair out of their face to get a better look at you.

"You look beautiful. I wasn't sure you'd ever come, human."

"Thank you. Um, neither was I." You laugh, looking down at your feet. 

"Relax." They say, cradling your chin and tilting it up. You notice that their teeth are very sharp.

"What's your name?" You blurt.

They seem surprised at the question.

"The name's Nasser, and I own this club. And I remember yours from the nametag," They say, tapping their bare chest in demonstration. "You humans have interesting names."

Nasser says your name, slowly, and you blush at the way their lilting accent makes each syllable sound so exotic.

"Yep, that's me. I'm glad you remember. So... What's next?" You ask.

"Well, I would love to have you. But I might be a bit too extreme for you. Don't worry, we have something we do for newcomers. I'm going to give you this badge..."

Nasser reaches into the pocket of their loose pants and pulls out a badge with a blue heart on it. You allow them to fasten it to your dress, right along the neckline, flushing as their knuckles brush against the soft skin of your breast.

"There is a group of monsters here who enjoy showing newcomers a good time. Just look for somebody wearing this badge. They'll make sure you'll want to come back."

Nasser gives you another grin and motions you forward. You nod and continue your exploration. You pass more rooms with closed doors, and sometimes large rooms with an open floor. At these ,you pause to watch different clusters of people exploring each others' bodies. You are curious enough to watch, but you don't know if you could ever have sex with other people in the room. 

After a few walks around the main floor, you don't find any monsters with a blue heart badge on, and you pause for a breather in a blessedly empty room.

Strangely enough, there's a model skeleton with a large grin with standing by the door. Its head is about level with your chest. It has a black suit on, and ironically enough, a blue heart badge is fastened onto its collar. You've seen a few strange decorations in the club so far—like a painting of blurry cat creatures with cheerful, absent smiles—but this has to take the prize. You stare for too long at the darkness of its empty sockets and feel a shudder roll down your spine.

"That's kinda creepy." You mutter, as you perch yourself on the large bed situated in the middle of the room. 

You sigh and press your fingertips into your temples. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I could be studying. Or, better yet, asleep."

"I know the feeling," a deep voice says. "I was, uh, actually half-asleep when you walked in. It's been a slow night."

You glance up and let loose a shriek. The skeleton is standing right in front of you with its hands stuffed into its pockets. You hadn't even heard it move. There are two pinpricks of light in its dark sockets.

"Hey," it—He? He, you think—laughs. "That's kinda rude."

"Oh my God." You say, resting a hand over your heart.

"Nah, just Sans will do." The skeleton says, holding a hand out for you to shake.

Hesitantly, you grasp his hand.

The familiar sound of a whoopie-cushion fills the air. You blink, and then snort with laughter. The skeleton grins—or, rather, his grin reaches his eyes.

"Nice to meet you. I thought you were a statue." You inform him, wryly running a hand through your hair.

Another low laugh. "That's a first."

"Well, there are like a ton of weird statues in here!" You say, still giggling.

"You mean," Sans pauses, "A  _skele_ -ton."

After a beat of silence, he throws the flattened whoopie cushion over his shoulder with one careless flick, splays his hands, and adds, "Ba-dum-tissh."

"Oh my God," You say yet again, covering your face.

"Hey. I already told you, doll, it's just Sans. Sans the Skeleton."

You smile and hug yourself, feeling suddenly shy.

"I see you're new here." Sans says, conversationally.

"I am." You reply, for lack of anything else to say.

"What's your name, kid?" He asks, taking a seat next to you. Something about the casual slouch of his shoulders eases some of the lingering nervousness coiling in your guts.

You tell him your name, and he nods. Then, very bluntly, he asks, "Do you want to go home? It's okay if you do. I've had a few humans chicken out. It's okay if this, uh, isn't your thing."

"No!" You say, quickly. "No. I'm just—overstimulated."

Sans gives you a wry, suggestive look, his sockets somehow going lidded. You're amazed that he manages to be extremely expressive with just the lights in his sockets and a Cheshire grin. You find yourself laughing and covering your face.

"I walked right into that, didn't I?" You giggle, peeking at him from between your fingers.

"I'm going  _tibia_ honest—" He says, looking pleased when you laugh harder, "you kinda did."

"Yeah." You breathe out, smiling down at him.

" _Yeah_. But, anyways. I can take you home right now, and you can forget this ever happened. Or, you can stand up, I can help you strip, and you can let me give you a reason to come back."

"Um. If you don't mind me asking, how exactly would you do that? You're a skeleton."

He laughs, and it's a deep sound, resonates from the chest like it would if he had flesh,  _"Humans._  Let's just say I have my ways."

The pinpricks of light in his sockets fade, and then the left glows with an eerie yellow-blue light. 

You shudder, and it isn't from fear this time.

Slowly, you stand, and come to stand in front of him. You take a deep breath, and turn so that you back is facing him.

"I like the sound of option two." You whisper. Might as well take a chance. You're shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement.  _Take a chance._

"Calm down. Let me help you relax." Sans says.

You breath hitches at the feeling of his phalanges, surprisingly warm, brushing against the base of your neck. He places one hand against your back and slowly pulls your zipper down with the other, until your upper torso is exposed to him.

His hands, surprisingly warm, slide down the curve of your sides and rest on your hips, slowly pushing your dress down to the floor. You step out of it, your feet still clad in heels. Your skin tingles in the wake of every touch. You throw your head back on a pleased sigh when he cups your breasts, flicking at the hardened peaks of your nipples through the lacy fabric of your bra.

"We can stop at anytime." He reminds you. You simply shake your head in reply, pressing yourself back into his front. 

"Have you ever done something like this before?" Sans asks, his voice low as he kneads your breasts, slow and thorough. A warm pool of arousal settles low in your gut—you have always had sensitive breasts—and you squeeze your thighs together to relieve the ache that blossoms between them.

"No. Have you?" You ask, turning to face him.

He pulls you onto his lap with a bark of laughter. "Baby, this is what I do when I should be working."

He reaches up to unclasp your bra, strangely knowledgeable about how it's done. You raise your arms up to help him pull it off, and then promptly cover your breasts with your hands.

"C'mon," Sans cajoles, sounding amused, "just a peek?"

His hands curl over your wrists and you allow him to pull your hands away. Once again, the lights in his sockets dim, only to be replaced by the ghostly glow in his left. You gasp in shock when he opens his mouth and a blue tongue emerges from between the rows of his teeth.

The tip of his wet tongue swirls around your left areola, and you whimper, your hips giving an involuntary buck. Sans slides a hand into your panties. He trails two of his fingers up the length of your wet slit, catching on your clit and rubbing slow, intent circles against it above the hood.

"Good?" He murmurs, pulling away from your nipple to peer up at your face.

You nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You wrap your arms around his shoulders for better leverage, rocking your hips into his rhythm. He presses one finger into your entrance, and it slides in easily.

"You're so wet..." Sans purrs, inserting another finger. His thumb picks up where his fingers left off, and soon, you settle into a comfortable rhythm.

Sans whispers quiet encouragement into your ear, telling you to take what you need, that he'll take care of you, that he'll make you cum as many times as you want. He guides your rhythm with a hand on your hip, and it makes you feel strangely safe. It doesn't take long for you to reach your peak, and it is a gentle orgasm, slow, cresting softly and leaving you weak-limbed.

"So. You still hype for option two?" He asks. It's getting easier for you to tell when he's actually smiling.

You nod, breathing out as he lays you back against the bedsheets. He pulls a spare pillow and has you raise your hips so he can place it under the round globes of your bottom, pausing to cop an appreciative squeeze.

"What are you doing?" You ask, your eyes curiously following as his hands reach down to undo the fly of his black slacks.

"Anyone ever eaten your pussy before?" Sans asks.

Your reply is a mute shake of the head.

"Do you want me to eat your pussy?" He continues, pulling your panties down your thighs. He pauses to ease your heels off your feet. When they're off, he slides his hands up your legs and up your inner thighs. You weakly hold them together for just a moment, and then you allow him to pull them apart until they're spread akimbo and you are completely exposed to him.

"Yes," You gasp, rolling your hips into the air as his hands ghost over the sensitive skin at the apex of your pelvis and thighs. With Sans' eyes glued between your legs, you realize that you are completely and truly naked and it's a strangely delicious feeling, somewhere on the edge of naughtiness and unapologetic enjoyment.

Sans lowers his head to your stomach. You can feel the wet tip of his tongue swirling swirling around your belly button, and you let out a reflexive giggle. It dissolves into a moan as he moves lower. At the first swipe of his tongue, from cunt to clit, you jerk and reach out to cradle his head against you.

Sans' tongue slides along your inner lips, down to your entrance to dip into your wetness, and then back up to your clit. With one hand, he places two fingers alongside the hood to pull it back, and laves intent circles into your hardened nub. He lays his other arm across your waist to restrict your movements—you can tilt your hips to receive him better, but otherwise, all you can do is take it. He alternates between licking at your clit and scraping at it with his teeth, whisper light, as he fucks two fingers into you.

You never knew you could feel your heart in your throat, or that your toes could curl quite like they are. You never knew you could make noises quite like you are right now, high pitched and keening. You've got one hand in your own hair, tugging and sifting through it, the other on the curve of Sans' skull to hold him to your pussy.

You aren't expecting him to hum lowly, sending gentle vibrations right against your throbbing clit. It throws you over the edge, and when he curls his fingers against a sensitive spot inside of you, your body jackknifes with the strength of your orgasm.

"Sans, shit, shit," You cry out, humming and moaning through your climax.

He helps you ride it out with a few gentle, timely thrust of his fingers. You push his head away from you when the sweep of his tongue brings a tinge of pain with the usual pleasurable feeling. 

You close your eyes and take deep breaths, running your hands over your face as you come down from the high. There's a pleasant warmth between your legs that makes you want to curl up and squeeze your thighs together. You're still trembling when Sans rests his chin on your on your belly and looks up at you.

"Still with me?" His voice is gravelly and uneven. You hear the shifting of fabric, and tell-tale wet sounds. You lift your head up and catch a flash of blue. Peeking out from his fly and leaking precum is a thick cock, the same color as the glowing tongue that he just used to make you cum so intensely. He gives it a few slow tugs, trailing his thumb over the slit in the tip. A shock of arousal races down your spine at the low oath he releases, and you are honestly surprised at yourself.

"Yeah, I'm good. Neat trick you have there." You add, and the both of you share a breathless laugh.

Sans is still chuckling as he releases his cock and moves down your body again, leaving a wet stripe on your skin with his tongue on the way down.

"What are you doing now?" You prop yourself up on your elbows to peer down at him. The image of his round, white head between your bare thighs sends a pleased shudder down your spine.

"I'm going to eat your pussy." He replies, voice sly. 

His tongue trails over your too-sensitive clit before you can answer him. You jolt and scramble away. He follows.

"Sans, no, it's too much!" You protest. You turn over onto your stomach so you can crawl towards the headboard.

"That works," Sans chuckles, cradling your hips to pull you back against his face. He spreads your outer lips and presses his tongue against your clit, making you bite your lip against the intense feeling.

You can't help a moan when swirls his tongue around your entrance, and then dips it inside of you. You cradle your head in your arms.

He pulls away and asks, "Do you really want me to stop?"

You really don't. "Just—just give me a moment."

He rubs comforting circles into your belly while you collect yourself.

"Are you having fun?" He asks.

You giggle, and it's just a little manic, "Couldn't you tell by the inhuman sounds I was making?"

He laughs, "I don't know, I kinda like those sounds. And I'd love to hear some more."

You nod, more to yourself than anyone else. "Okay. I'm okay. Don't stop."

You come faster this time, with Sans' fingers circling your clit and his tongue stroking your inner walls. It's less like your last orgasm, which was akin to an explosion of feeling, and more like a wave of pleasure that travels out to your extremities, leaving you feeling warm.

You bite your lip through it. You're still trembling when he turns you onto your side, and you cling to his front when he makes his way up the bed to lay beside you, eyes intent on your face.

"Shh," He says, stroking a hand up and down the curve of your waist. "I got you, kid. Let go."

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press light kisses onto the curve of his skull. He slides his hand between your legs once again and you give a whimper as his fingers slide across your sensitive skin.

"Do you think you have another one in you?" He asks. "You were so tight around my fingers, my tongue... I wonder how it'll feel if you come on my cock? Would you like that?"

You are nodding before he's even done talking. Sans throws his head back on a laugh, and a streak of effervescent blue trails through the air from the glowing light in his left socket. He gently removes himself from your tight embrace and kneels before you. You make to roll onto your stomach, but he stills you with a hand on your hip.

"Stay on your side. Lift your leg for me, sexy." Sans commands, softly. You lift your top leg, and he hooks a hand underneath your knee. He props your leg up on his shoulder (you notice that you can feel his bone underneath the fabric of his suit) and straddles your lower leg. His cock bobs with each movement and your eyes are drawn to it. He is not overlong, but he is thick—certainly thicker than your first and only partner, who you haven't seen in years.

He follows your gaze and gives you a positively lewd smile. "Don't worry. I think I've relaxed you pretty well at this point."

You blush and reach up to swat at him, but he simply catches your hand and presses it against his teeth in lieu of a kiss. He holds onto that hand, presses it against the mattress as he leans into you. He grabs the shaft of his cock and teases his head up your slit. It slides over your clit and you moan, surprised at how much it feels like any human man's cock. 

"You want this?" Sans growls, pressing the head against your entrance.

"Yes!" You gasp, letting your head fall back on a high-pitched keen when he enters you with one slow thrust. The ridges on the shaft of his cock catch on the sensitive area around your entrance, and drags deliciously when he pulls out. 

"Fuck, you're so tight." He groans, thrusting slow and hard, so that you can feel the girth of him stretching you open. 

You turn your face into the pillow underneath your head in order to muffle the filthy cries falling from your lips.

Sans releases your hand to stroke your cheek. "Don't do that. Let me hear you."  

He speeds up, just a little, and each time he bottoms out inside of you, you release a hitching cry that will surely have you blushing into your hands later. As it is, you quickly become too lost in ecstasy to care. You cup your breasts and twist your aching nipples, and Sans growls approvingly.

You clench around him when he pauses to give an experimental grind inside of you, grazing a sensitive area in your inner walls.

He hisses in response. "You need to stop that if you want me to be gentle."

"It's okay," You tell him, reaching down with one hand to caress your clit. It sets your walls aflutter with impending orgasm. Sans curses, slamming his hands onto the bed on either side of your head for leverage.

"Fuck, yeah. Touch yourself, babe. You looked so hot earlier, with your legs spread for me. I've been with a lot of humans, but I gotta say, you have a pretty pussy. All tight and wet and pink... Fuck," Sans curses.

You force your eyes open—when had you closed them?—to watch him, and you swear you could see sweat beading on his forehead. His thrusts are becoming erratic, but it doesn't feel any less amazing. There's a familiar warmth in your belly, and it's fueled by so many things you're overwhelmed. It's in the pinprick of pain that comes with each twist of your nipple, the near painful pleasure of massaging your clit, the thickness of Sans' cock stretching you so wide with each thrust, his filthy words, your own brazenness.

"You're close, aren't you? You're so fucking pretty when you cum. You came in here and I was sure you were gonna jet, but you're really just a dirty girl, aren't you?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes," You sob.

And it's the knowledge, the gut feeling, that Sans is as close to the brink that you are, that finally brings you over the edge. You jerk, nearly curling in on yourself with the force of your orgasm, your walls fluttering wildly around Sans' cock. You cry out his name, or at least something that sounds like it, reaching your hands out to fist them in the sheets.

"Shit, shit," Sans hisses, and he fucks you right through each round of contractions. Your move your leg from his shoulder and roll onto your back, whimpering when it causes his cock to pop out of you. He growls and thrusts back into you right when your climax is petering off, and the abrupt way he stretches you open once again sends you into trembling aftershocks. His left eye is glowing brightly, brighter than it ever has been up until this point.

You let your legs fall open, spread against the mattress, and cling to him as he chases his own pleasure. He buries his face into the crook of your shoulder. A few more jerky thrusts, and he cums with a long, drawn out groan. You're stretched so tight around him that his cum spills out of you and onto the sheets below. You can feel it sliding over your skin.

Sans goes limp against you for just a moment, and you can feel his weight pressed against your front, all hard angles and curves. Then he raises up himself up. His sockets are completely closed. They flutter open when you cup his face, and become lidded when you lean up to kiss his forehead.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks.

Slowly, he pulls out, and you hiss lightly. Just a little sore, but the good kind of sore—nothing you can't handle. You can feel more of his cum dribbling out of you, and you blush deeply.

Smilingly, you tell him, "Only in the good way."

He laughs, and the blue glow in his left socket slowly recedes. They're replaced by the ordinary points of light. You stare closely, fascinated. 

"Hold up," He says.

Apparently, there's a bathroom connected to this room, something you hadn't noticed earlier. (Of course you didn't, you think, pressing your hands to your cheeks and giggling softly.) Sans helps you into it, draws a bath, rolls up his sleeves, and guides you into the tub. He helps you clean up, both clinical and unabashedly exploratory. He cracks several awful jokes that have you in stitches. You haven't felt quite this cherished in a long time.

"So, where do you live?" Sans asks, as he helps you out of the tub. He reaches for the fluffy towel on the rack by the wall, and then holds it out for you to walk into. You tell him that you're a student at the University, and he hums in understanding.

Then he says, "Which dorm room specifically?"

You blink. "221B. Why?"

"I can take you there." Is his cryptic reply.

"Oh, no, it's not too long a walk. Really," You protest. 

Sans grins at you. "Trust me, I know a shortcut."

* * *

Your alarm rings late the next morning, and you are eternally grateful you don't have any classes until night. You stretch, still deliciously sore in interesting places. You sit up and reach out to cut off your alarm.

There's a slip of paper on top of it.

Written in scratchy handwriting, alongside a number and a crude self-portrait by Sans, is a silly little message:

_Hey, I just met you_

_And this is crazy_

_But here's my number,_

_So ~~bone~~  call me maybe? ;)_

You release a delighted laugh and clutch the note to your chest. 

It's going to be an interesting week.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in years and the first thing I wanna write is about the bone zone
> 
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> Send Help
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> (And also comments. Those, too.)
> 
> I just made [a Tumblr](http://freidacay.tumblr.com) and I have no idea what I'm doing, so if you wanna go scream tutorials at me (and maybe?? Make prompts?? IDK if I want to do those but I think it'd be nice) and discuss Undertale, pls talk to me there. I'm very. _bone_ -ly *is shot*


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